


Dinner?

by runningwithdinosaurs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Brings Flowers, Derek is a Failwolf, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, but a really cute one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithdinosaurs/pseuds/runningwithdinosaurs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles invited Derek over for dinner, he expected pizza and beer and arguing about the motives of Beacon Hill’s latest Big Bad.</p>
<p>“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Stiles forced out, staring at the bouquet of wild flowers in Derek’s outstretched hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner?

**Author's Note:**

> this is from a prompt I got on le tumblr to use “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind" in a sterek story. it's short. and cute. i hope. enjoy!

When Stiles invited Derek over for dinner, he expected pizza and beer and arguing about the motives of Beacon Hill’s latest Big Bad.

 “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Stiles forced out, staring at the bouquet of wild flowers in Derek’s outstretched hand. His minutely trembling hand. Stiles wouldn’t have noticed it if he didn’t know the other man so well.

Derek looked Stiles in the eye for the first time since thrusting his handful of flowers at him. Whatever he saw there caused him to step back, turn on his heel and start walking away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stiles cried, stumbling down the hallway after the werewolf, who was practically sprinting away. “Dude, slow down, not all of us can be a broody version of the Flash!”

Derek hesitated for a second and that gave Stiles enough time to dive onto his back. “What the hell, Stiles?” Derek snarled, even as he gripped Stiles’s thighs so he didn’t fall off.

“Where are you going with my flowers?” Stiles scolded. “Lydia gave me a vase for my apartment warming that I’ve had no use for until _this very moment_.”

“So, you…want the flowers?” Derek asked slowly, still hitching Stiles up and resolutely looking straight ahead.

“Of course!” Stiles enthused. “No one’s ever given me flowers before! There’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Oh,” Derek’s body visibly deflated. “Right.”

He placed Stiles down carefully and followed him back to his apartment. Stiles stopped in the middle of his living room, straining to remember where he’d put Lydia’s lovely but unused Waterford vase. He knew he’d packed it away somewhere, since it didn’t really go with his décor—or lack thereof—but _where_ was the question.

He crouched next to his coffee table, which was one of those cool ones that had drawers underneath. “Dude, take a seat,” he instructed Derek, who was hovering awkwardly in the doorway, flowers still clutched in his hand. “I just need to find a resting place for those babies and then we’ll arrange them.”

“ _We’ll_ arrange them?” Derek questioned as he took a seat on the couch as far away from Stiles as was humanly (and werewolf-ly) possible.

“Bros that arrange together stay together,” Stiles quipped, giving up his search in the drawers and crawling over to the TV cabinet instead.

Derek didn’t say anything, which was actually more unusual then Stiles had ever thought it would be six years ago when he’d first met Derek. He was staring at the flowers in his lap like they’d personally offended him and were the root of all of his problems.

“Why did you, uhh, bring me flowers, anyway?” Stiles asked lightly, trying not to spook the jumpy werewolf.

Again, no answer. When Stiles looked up, Derek was trying to leave again.

“Damnit, Derek! We’ve worked on using our words for four years! You’re not regressing now!” Stiles shouted, flopping forward and tripping on his feet as he tried to stand. Derek leapt forward and caught him, of course, because that was essentially what he lived to do: catching other people and never himself.

Stiles’s hands were bunching the fabric of the shoulders of his jacket and Derek’s arms were around his waist, steadying him. When Derek tried to pull away, Stiles gripped the cotton tighter. “Stiles…”

“Derek,” Stiles pressed his forehead to the other man’s, which caused Derek to realize how close they were standing if his darting glance down and subsequent gulp were any indication. “Derek,” Stiles repeated, breath puffing against Derek’s frowning lips. “Why did you bring me flowers?”

Derek closed his eyes, still not able, after all the time that had passed, to look people in the eye when talking about _feelings_ and other _important shit_.

“Because I thought your invitation to dinner meant more than it clearly did.”

“We have dinner together all the time,” Stiles pointed out. “Was I wrong to think that this was just another bro night, minus our newly engaged and therefore even more sappy than usual alpha?”

“But I usually just show up for those!” Derek blurted, his eyes open and wide. “You never… you never ask _me_. Especially if Scott’s not here. I just show up and eat your food and drink your beer and…” he trailed off. “You _asked_ me and I thought…” he sighed, looking pained.

Stiles knew he had two options. One, he could laugh and apologize and bust on Derek for being such a gracious guest who brought _hosting presents_. And they’d never speak of it again. Or two…

“Hey, Derek?” he whispered.

Derek tilted his head closer to listen, even though he obviously had no need to be so close to hear him. And Stiles knew.

“What?” Derek murmured back.

“Wanna have dinner with me?”

Derek’s eyes slammed shut. “Stiles, don’t—”

“Because I’ve been meaning to get you alone for a while and having dinner with me would be the perfect opportunity.”

Derek’s right eye peeked open. “Yeah? Why is that?”

“So I can do this.”

And as clichéd as he knew it was, Stiles leaned in and kissed him. Derek’s lips parted immediately and Stiles deepened the kiss, pressing his body even closer to Derek’s. Derek moaned deep in his throat and ran his hands up along Stiles’s sides, pushing his shirt up to stroke bare skin. Stiles’s skin burned wherever he touched.

With one last peck, Stiles broke away. “Geez, let’s at least have dinner first.”

“You started it,” Derek smirked.

Stiles grinned. He had, hadn’t he? However inadvertently. “Well, let’s get that pizza ordered.”

Derek frowned.

“Oh no,” Stiles laughed, “this changes nothing. I still cook for no one but my immediate family.” He paused and winked. “So keep up the good work and I’ll be making you my mom’s pierogi in no time.”

Derek smiled his most genuine smile, the one that was so small it looked like it was waging a war to stay on his lips. “I’ll try.”

Stiles darted into the kitchen and Derek went to follow him. He’d just scooped up the slightly mangled flowers that had been dropped one too many times when he heard a loud crash from the other room.

“Stiles?” he hurried into the kitchen, only to see Stiles staring at a glittering pile of glass shards in the middle of the floor. They caught the light beautifully. They also would never be holding his flowers.

Stiles shot him a panicked look, “Don’t tell Lydia.”

“That’s my default plan of action in most situations.”

A smile so wide it crashed onto his face like glistening waves stretched across Stiles’s face. “We are going to be so good at this.”

***

(They _were_ really good at it. Except when they fought. Or didn’t communicate well. Or Derek caused Stiles to burn dinner. Or one of them almost died.

The rest of the time, they were _great_ at it. In many different ways. And positions.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm runwiththisdinosaur on the tumblr. Follow me and squeal with me! Especially with season four so dreadfully close. 
> 
> I always accept prompts!


End file.
